


Hallelujah (Let's Try)

by Aivix



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Loss of Limbs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aivix/pseuds/Aivix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John needed two intact legs for command, Rodney had a backup plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallelujah (Let's Try)

**Author's Note:**

> For Romancing McShep prompt #120.

_A moment you'll never remember_

All John got out was, “Put that thing back where it came from or so help me...” before the ceiling collapsed on them.

_And a night you'll never forget_

“Uhhhhnnnn,” John breathed.

“Yeah, yeah, that's how I feel, too.”

“Rodney...”

“Don't move. There's probably half a ton of rock on you.” Rodney pressed down on John's shoulder with a hand. “I mean, not all of it is on you, but there's a lot of it and your legs are trapped.”

John had figured that out already, but he nodded anyway. Shifting his back to get the sharp point of a rock out from between his shoulderblades, he asked, “Why aren't I in pain?”

“Oh, I, uh, gave you the morphine from my kit.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Look, I know Jennifer says not to give anything to someone if they're not awake, but I think one of your legs may be crushed and I didn't want you to wake up screaming.”

The look in Rodney's eyes told John enough: he wasn't the only one in shock. “Thank you, Rodney. It was a good thought, buddy.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, how are we gonna get out of here?”

Rodney gestured toward his radio. “Teyla got through to Atlantis. Sam sent an emergency team and the combat engineers are digging us out, but it's going to take some time. They have to stabilize the pile as they dig to keep it from collapsing any further onto us.”

“Okay.”

For a moment there was silence and then, as John counted down the seconds to zero, Rodney launched into a rambling apology.

Fuck but McKay was predictable.

“Rodney.”

“...and I didn't think it would do this. I didn't. I didn't think they'd booby-trap a _lab_ and now you might lose one of your legs and...”

“Rodney!”

“What?”

“Breathe.” John reached down to feel along his leg, fingers brushing the tourniquet wrapped above his knee. “I know it was an accident, okay? You wouldn't have deliberately brought the room down on our heads. Now, I need you to tighten this.”

“I did it exactly how Jennifer directed in training.”

“Yes, but Keller isn't going to be here in the next hour, right? I still have sensation in my lower leg and I know I'm bleeding. You have to make it tighter.”

Rodney nodded vigorously and inched forward. He tried to be gentle about it, only to say, “I'm sorry, John. This'll hurt.”

“That's okay. Hurting means I'm still alive,” John coaxed, “Gimme something to bite on first, though.”

Rodney handed him a leather glove from one of his vest compartments. John folded it in half before setting it between his teeth and clenching his hands in fists; with a nod, Rodney set back to work, John's yelling stifled enough to not upset McKay.

Task completed, Rodney sat back and dabbed at the sweat on his forehead.

“Good. That's better,” John panted. He'd bitten holes into the glove and he winced a little at the taste that settled onto his tongue.

Rodney sat there for a while. Whether he was listening to the sound of shifting rock above them or trying to wrap his brain around what had happened, John wasn't sure. At the moment he really didn't care: he needed to keep Rodney from panicking which is exactly what he would do if John didn't cut it off at the knees.

He looked down at his legs.

 _Pun not intended_ , he thought.

It was possible he needed to keep from panicking as well.

“Hey, Rodney, why don't you lay down next to me?”

If it were possible, Rodney's face went paler than it had been. “I don't know.”

“Rodney.” John patted the ground next to him, brushing away a few pebbles. “Lay down.”

“No, nononono, you know I... I cuddle. We can't let your men see that, that's the rule.” Both of his hands were moving wildly through the air, fingers nearly knocking some rock loose from around them.

“It's cold and we're both shivering. We need to conserve body heat. My men will understand that.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really sure?”

“Rodney, _get over here_.”

He went and he was asleep in minutes which was so the wrong thing to let Rodney do when he probably had a concussion, but sometimes it was necessary to do the wrong thing. He set his watch to alarm in two hours to check on Rodney and settled in to wait for rescue.

_If you can't stop shaking, lean back_

John's leg had been crushed badly.

(Day one: “We can try to repair it,” Keller with a frown.

Day three: “There's probably something in the Ancients' database,” Rodney with his tablet held before him like a shield.

Day four: “You do realize that this is the SGC and we've got a lot of weird, magical things at our disposal, right?” O'Neill with his arms crossed and the _Daedalus_ waiting for him.

Day seven: “So when they taking your leg off?” Ronon with a knowing smirk.)

He sighed as he clicked the morphine button to top himself up.

_Let it move right through ya'_

Keller released him to quarters.

Well, not so much released as sent him back to his room with an orderly and a bottle of oxy tablets for the pain after John spent forty-five minutes whining. She'd put up a valiant resistance, too, at least until Rodney'd walked in and started providing back up to John's arguments. After that, she'd lasted five minutes, thrown up her hands and said, “Fine. _Fine_. But I'm releasing him into _your_ care, Rodney. Make sure he takes the pills.”

It felt good to be back in his own bed, if only until Rodney decided that his bed was too small for convalescence. He was carted to Rodney's bed then, which John didn't mind in the least. He spent most of his nights there as it was.

He winced as Rodney gently lifted his bad leg to set the cast atop a pillow. He wasn't able to get the expression off his face fast enough, however, and Rodney dropped his eyes to the floor.

“Let me get you some water,” he muttered. He disappeared into the bathroom and returned, jangling the pill vial in one hand. He set both onto the nightstand; he knew John had another hour before he could take more medication, although he'd probably put it off. The stubborn ass.

Tasks done, Rodney shuffled on his feet, as if unsure if what he should do now that John was settled and John stilled him by grabbing Rodney's wrist. The constant movement combined with the last of the effects of the morphine was giving him nausea.

“I'll sleep on the couch.”

John snorted. “If you're not in this bed in the next twenty seconds, I'm going to drag you into it and that will probably hurt me further. Which'll incite Keller.”

Rodney scrambled out of his jacket and pants and into the bed. He watched John through huge eyes for a while, then tentatively reached out a hand to splay it out over John's chest.

“It's my leg that fucked up, Rodney. Rest of me is fine,” he muttered, “Come here.”

He pushed and pulled at his partner, settling only once Rodney had relaxed and curled himself around John's good side. They traded a few kissed as they closed their eyes, savoring the feel of each other where they were pressed together.

It was comforting and wonderful for a little while.

Rodney broke it. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“This. If I hadn't been so keen to find the source of that energy reading, the room wouldn't have...”

“Stop.”

“I... John...”

“What part of this not being your fault did you miss the last three times we've discussed it? It happened. It's done. We both came out of it alive.”

Rodney nuzzled at John's chest.

“We came out of it alive,” John repeated.

“Yeah, small consolation. Air Force requires you to have two intact legs to keep your command.”

John kissed Rodney's forehead. “True. 's why we're waiting to see if the fixation works.”

It wasn't going to work. They both knew it. Keller waxing poetic about prosthetic legs a day after the surgery had been a pretty big clue that it was already failing.

Rodney swallowed and pushed his nose into John's neck.

They didn't talk any further.

_My life started the day I got caught_

He found out, when he surfaced from the anesthesia, that Rodney had practically puked his own organs up from the minute the first cut was made until the last stitch was in place.

He also found out that Keller managed to save his knee.

They didn't cancel each other out, but the drugs were so good that it almost felt like they did.

The drugs were so good that he didn't even notice when Rodney stopped visiting.

For a good while, O'Neill managed to keep putting up roadblock after roadblock, but nothing lasted forever and the time came when John was told, “They're recalling you to Earth.”

He nodded and said all the right things, the good little soldier, and asked Keller to tell Rodney that he would be leaving in three days.

Rodney didn't show up again, not even to say goodbye.

(John heard a rumor, as they took him to the Gate, that Rodney wasn't even in Atlantis.)

_Then the time for being sad is over_

Physical therapy sucked ass and the prosthesis pinched his stump in more than a few places.

It didn't help that he'd been trapped in the SGC for three weeks, his patience getting progressively shorter and shorter.

“Walk a few steps, John, you'll get used to it,” he growled to himself, pulling the fake leg off and throwing it across the room. He pressed his fingers into the skin around the healed incision, massaging it to soothe the aggravated nerve endings. “Fucking PT.”

That night he skipped dinner.

And the next.

Lam offered him meds for the lingering muscle pain, but John shook his head at that. His family's predisposition to drug addiction made him too weary of long-term medications; he didn't, after all, want to end up like his mother: face down in a pool of vomit, bruises the funeral home had to hide under thick make up from the blood pooling when her heart stopped.

That was absolutely not how he was going out.

Lam had frowned at him, but accepted his refusal and John had gone back to his daily routine of breakfast, PT, lunch, appointment with doctor/specialist/therapist, and then back to his quarters to sleep.

By six weeks, he felt half-insane.

He pleaded to be taken up to the surface for five minutes in actual sunlight and not simulated. They decided that was good motivation, telling that when he could walk to the elevator, they'd take him up.

He just went back to bed instead.

(Sleep was the only thing keeping him from saying, “Fuck it,” and taking the pills Lam offered. When he slept, he dreamed and when he dreamed, he was still whole and home in Atlantis with Rodney at his side. When he was awake, he was alone and miserable and nowhere he belonged.

He hated being awake.)

Eventually Lam cornered him and demanded to know if John had realized it yet.

“Realized what?”

“That you're depressed.”

“Nah, doc. I'm just tired.”

Her pursed lips reminded John of Rodney and his heart clenched.

“Look, it's just that I've been cooped up in here for two months. I've read the same magazine sixteen times. The laptop I was assigned can't play movies and I don't have any books. There really isn't much for me to do.” John shifted on the crutches. “When I'm bored, I sleep.”

He knew she didn't believe it for a second but she shook her head and walked off, making a beeline for what he knew was Landry's office.

John went back to bed.

He woke up to someone sitting on him, a pair of blue eye boring into his. “Rodney?”

“Took you long enough to wake up.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I would hope it's obvious.” John made a face and Rodney deflated, admitting, “I know. I, uh, wasn't around when you left and then I didn't email or call, but I...”

“You what?”

Rodney shrugged; he toyed with the neckline of John's shirt, drawing a line over a scar on John's shoulder. “Look, it took more time than I thought it would to buy a house, all right? I had to narrow down what places would work for both of us and then I had to weed out the places that weren't near a good hospital or a research facility and then I actually had to go look at them. Which Jeannie wouldn't let me do without her, so it made the process even longer.”

John squinted his eyes at Rodney. “What?”

“I, uh, bought us a house.”

“You bought us a house?”

“Yes.”

Shit.

“Shit.” John toppled Rodney sideways and crawled over him. “Where?”

“Virginia Beach. It's not the best place in the world for surfing, but I think it'll be okay. And Johns Hopkins is an hour away by plane and there's several hospitals in Norfolk that I thought were decent.”

“You bought us a house.”

Rodney nodded and asked, “That's good, right?”

John smiled in response, the first time he'd done so in weeks. “Yes, Rodney, that's good.”

_I love the things you hate about yourself_

He came home dripping from head to toe, his board carried under his arm but the cord still wrapped around his ankle.

“You're going to trip one of these days.”

John smirked. “Not likely.”

“Uh huh. How'd you break your ankle again?”

“That was not my fault!”

“Practice safer surfing.”

John stuck his tongue out and then blew a raspberry. “Wanna get Chinese for dinner? I could go for some kung pow chicken right about now.”

“Order me one of the combination plates. Egg roll and fried rice,” Rodney agreed. “I just need to finish these calculations for Zelenka and then I'm free for the rest of the evening.”

“They still having problems with the power conduits?”

“No, this time it's the hyperdrive. Chair's having issues connecting to the power grid and without it, well, you know.”

“They trying to go somewhere?”

“Planet swap. The Vanir took Woolsey. Sam's back in Pegasus looking for him with Lorne, but for security reasons, they want to jump to another world.”

“Those guys just will not quit.”

“They're deranged Asgard who have a distinct lack of moral compass when it comes to human life. And they're a little bitter after Zelenka and Jackson destroyed the Attero device. Kind of cost them the ability to feel safe in Pegasus.”

“Well, humans outnumber them by a lot. Only a matter of time before we take them down. If I order spare ribs, would you eat them?”

Rodney gave him a dry look.

“I'll get the large.”

“And a bottle of soda! We're out.”

“Gotcha.”

Rodney finished his calculations and sent along a bit of coding that they'd all been fussing over at the SGC, snapping the laptop closed as the food arrived. John had changed out of his wetsuit and toweled off, the salt water still doing wonderful things to his hair, but he'd redressed in probably the tightest pair of jeans in the house and a black tee shirt that left extremely little to the imagination.

It served as inspiration for Rodney to eat quickly and then bounce a foot while John finished his plate, practically vaulting over the coffee table once John's lap was clear of everything.

“Fuck me.”

“Like I'd say no to that.” John grinned against his mouth, kissing him ardently. “Wanna suck you off.”

“Like I'd say no to _that_.”

“Wanna go to bed?”

Rodney didn't need asking twice. He was up and dragging John behind him, pitching him onto the bed as soon as they passed into the room and he kicked the door closed behind them. Clothing was dispensed with shortly thereafter, John's shirt catching on the bookshelf on the opposite wall; John was careful only with his prosthetic, setting it in the normal place beside the nightstand where neither were likely to damage it with sexual acrobatics.

Okay, out of the way of either one of them stepping on it in the middle of the night.

“How do you want to do this?”

Ideally John would swap places with Rodney and then get down on the floor to blow him, but his bad leg couldn't take prolonged kneeling and John really, really wanted to draw it out tonight. So he went with plan b: he shoved Rodney to sit against the headboard so he could lay the length of the bed.

“Oh, you're brilliant,” Rodney murmured as John's tongue flicked to steal the bead of pre-come gathering at the tip.

It was possible this was exactly how he wanted John, laid out so there was plenty of skin to touch and his mouth wrapped so neatly around his cock. He planned to take advantage of both.

Rubbing his fingers over John's cheek as he tipped his head back, Rodney grunted. If it was possible, he hardened further, because, fuck, that was hot; he pushed his other hand into John's hair and then down to his neck.

“John,” he got out and then whined when John started pressing dry fingers against his hole, “Yes. Do it.”

“I need the lube.” John's chin was wet and the corners of his mouth were swollen and Rodney pulled him up for a moment, needing to kiss him nownownow. “What happened to me sucking you off?”

“Oh, you can get right back to that.”

John laughed as he crept back down to take Rodney back in, teeth scraping just right over the shaft once he did. He was still snickering as he worked and the vibrations felt so wonderful that Rodney moaned, clutching at John's shoulder.

All it took was one more brush of John's fingers along the seam of Rodney's ass to get him coming.

The stars receded from his eyes after a few minutes and he came back to himself to find John in his lap, watching him smugly. “Welcome back,” he said, “Have a good orgasm?”

“Ass.”

“Oh, I'm getting there.”

Rodney pushed his arm weakly and yawned, only to feel the answering push of John's erection against his stomach.

“I promised to fuck you.”

“You also promised to blow me and you know what that does to me.”

“Rod-ney.”

Only they could have bitching and whining during sex.

“Mmm, fine,” Rodney told him at last, magnanimous; he rolled and wiggled once John lifted himself up, one hand brushing the stump and he felt John flinch.

(It'd been three years. Rodney had really hoped after three years John could stop being so self-conscious about the fact that he was missing part of his leg, but no.

He made a mental note to mention it to the therapist the next time they went.)

It didn't slow him down though, and Rodney set his head on his crossed arms. He spread his legs one at a time, John settling between them with a sigh. He was ominously quiet, then, ever so gently, Rodney felt hands bare him further and a tongue swipe along the skin.

“Okay, I'm awake,” he announced, voice strained, “Very awake.”

“Good. Pass me the lube.”

The tongue went back to work, breaching him, and then there were fingers sliding in with it. Rodney pushed back into it all, not at all whimpering, nope, and only as the last of the post-orgasm lassitude left, did John slither up Rodney's back to bury his face into Rodney's neck.

“If you ask if I'm ready, I will hurt you.”

John laughed and laved a hickey into the skin under his mouth. Once he was done, he leaned up enough to grip his cock in one hand and prop himself into a better position, pushing into Rodney in one long, perfect slide.

He didn't ask if Rodney was okay or if he wanted John to move—he'd long ago learned that if he did, it didn't amuse Rodney as much as piss him off—and instead, he set up an easy, lazy rhythm that lasted until Rodney took one of John's hands out from under him, drawing each finger into his mouth.

“Fuck.”

“Yep. Keep doing that.”

He snapped his hips forward and grunted with the effort as he started moving faster, nuzzling his face into Rodney's hair. “Gonna come.”

“Any time now.”

“So gracious.”

“Hey, I already came.”

John might have been grinning stupidly when his vision went out and his body went taut, coming with a final push into Rodney.

_You miss 'em like you miss no other_

It'd been five years by the time Sam Carter showed up on their doorstep.

John was graying at the temples and Rodney had a paunch reminiscent of their first year in Atlantis, before John started making him trek across planets and do gym sessions with Ronon. Their house was a mess from them and the dog; the cat mostly kept to herself which was what Rodney swore cats did.

He still thought it was the devil with calico fur.

“General Carter,” John greeted, respectful.

“Get in here. It's fucking winter and you're letting all the cold in,” Rodney said.

“Good to see you too, Rodney,” she shot back before briefly hugging John. “You'd think time would make him less of an ass.”

“Nope. I think he's getting grouchier.”

“I can hear you!”

John only smirked. “We know.”

Someone produced coffee like a good host (John) and someone else grumbled about math proofs and Jeannie (Rodney), until Sam lost the amused look on her face, put down her mug, and told them, “We need you to come back to Atlantis.”

“You know there's a long list of things I expected you to say.” Rodney blinked at her. “That was not on it.”

She nodded, glanced at John who was sitting with his legs up on an ottoman with an expression of forced indifference, and then explained: “You've spent most of your time after leaving helping Radek with the systems failures that we've been dealing with. We figured at first that it was just her age, parts breaking down, and we worked through the problems.

“But then we started stringing a few things together.”

Rodney spurned her on by demanding, “Like what?”

“Well, the failures were never random and they started to become predictable. We knew that if the ventilation went down, water would be next, then sewage treatment. If the stardrive went down, next we'd lose Stargate operations, and then the Stargate itself.”

“Okay,” John said, “And that segues into us coming back...”

“When we installed and recharged the third ZPM, a few systems came online that we'd never been able to power up before. It was a field day for Zelenka and his team, until one of them tripped the AI.”

“What do you mean tripped the AI?” Rodney.

“Exactly that—one of them managed to turn on the AI within the city. She's a holographic representation that can interact with people on base. According to the database, she can warn us about problems before they start, move around freely during quarantine to keep everyone informed, even auto-recharge the ZPMs before we know they need it.

“The problem is...” Sam sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Well, now we have a voice to all the problems and they're not failures due age. She's been throwing temper tantrums.”

“I'm sorry? The city of Atlantis is having a hissy? Really?”

John snickered at the thought but said nothing.

“Most of the Ancient technologies have a mental component. It seems the biggest one belongs to the city itself, and she got very attached to one person in the expedition.”

Rodney's mouth went even more crooked. “John.”

Sam nodded and gave John a small, comforting smile. “Keller, Beckett, Lam, Zelenka, and a few others sat down and went through some records from when this started. We think the depression you suffered after you left was partly due to the loss of your leg and partly to withdrawal.”

“Really?”

“Reports from other former residents of Atlantis seem to confirm that there is a period of depression, anxiety, loss of appetite, and even physical pain for several weeks to several months after leaving the city. We haven't been able to get her to tell us why, but we think that she, for lack of a better way of putting it, chooses people she likes and deems them family.”

“So it's not everyone?”

“No. She's selective.”

Crossing his arms in front of him, Rodney asked angrily, “And you just wanted us to come back so we can make her, what, more obedient?”

Sam didn't back down from the posture or the tone. “I don't think there's anything that would ever tame her. She was Janus' creation.” Nothing else needed to be said about that because fucking Janus and his fucking experiments. “It's more that...” Carter muttered, “God help me,” to herself before saying, “We could use you both. It's been a hell of a couple of years and more than once we've had people begging for your inputs. You're founding members of the expedition, which no one has ever forgotten, and it's firmly believed that if it hadn't been for your medical discharge, you might have ended the war with the Wraith years ago.”

They lapsed into silence, Rodney and John having a conversation that took place with facial expression and eye contact, and Sam ducked into the bathroom for five minutes to calm her nerves. She returned to find John was shoving Rodney with his prosthetic foot while Rodney scowled and told her, “How are you getting him back there? And me?”

“Waiver for John. He won't be the only serviceman in Atlantis with a prosthesis, and they've decided to elevate him to full Colonel. Lorne is extremely willing to share command, especially since we've got a force on the mainland now.” The words came easier now. “And you know Radek's wife is pregnant. He wants to step down as CSO, but we really can't let him because of how valuable he is to the city.”

“But he's no me.”

Sam grinned. “No, Rodney. He's no you. We discussed that if he could come up with a replacement CSO then he could step down, except we really haven't had any one person who is capable of handling her. No one with the intuitive grasp of Ancient technology. He's tried a few people as co-heads of the department, but it was... interesting.”

“You mean a disaster.”

Sam couldn't say it, but the look on her face did: it was an unmitigated disaster and we were cleaning sewage out of the lower levels for weeks afterwards.

“You'd have to, well, _share_ the position with Radek while we got you up to speed and transferred experiments.”

“I can share!”

John clapped him on the back, leaned in and said, “You don't share credit, Chinese food, chocolate, or the lube.”

It was worth it to see Rodney squawk at him like a dying bird before turning beet red and hitting John as hard as he could in the arm.

Sam bit her lips to keep from laughing. She failed spectacularly and ended up having John patting her on the back while she struggled to get lungfuls of air.

She left soon after, leaving them with her private number and a deadline of three days.

_Sitting pretty in my brand new scars_

They said yes, of course, with a few caveats.

(“You want to bring the _cat_?”

“She keeps Rodney from murder some days.”

“You're bringing the cat.”)

It'd made one person from the IOA quit—there wasn't enough coffee, alcohol, or drugs in the universe for Michael Abrahams to deal with Rodney McKay as the Atlantis Science contact—and a few others curse, but the guys they send to help them mothball the house seemed happy that they were coming back.

Or it might have just been John they were happy about, they didn't specify and John didn't ask.

Hey, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth when they were the only reason the house was ready to go in the two week timeframe they'd been given. They'd barely managed to get everything else—vet visits for the two pets, appointments with John's doctors and a fitting for the new leg he'd insisted on getting as a back up, cleaning out Rodney's work office, and packing up the transport crate with the things that the could live without for a while since it would arrive during the bimonthly import dialing.

God bless having ZPMs to spare now.

Rodney was already drooling over all the things that would be possible with the ability to dial Earth without worrying about power consumption. John kept patting his chin with tissues in jest.

“Seriously, do you not understand? They get fresh food once a week and there's _internet access_.”

“How'd they manage that?” John pictured a cable stretching through space from Earth to Atlantis like a great big umbilical cord.

“Daily dial-in from Earth sends a clone of the internet through. There's a 24 hour delay in news for obvious reasons, but still... _Internet access_.”

“You won't have to give up your porn!”

“I hate you sometimes, you know that?”

John smirked and kissed his cheek. “Nope, you love me. All the time. Because you're a romantic.”

“I'll give you romantic...”

Sam snickered as she joined them at the base of the ramp; she greeted John's dopey but mellow flat-coated retriever first, then John and Rodney. She peered into the carrier at MC, but the hissing caused her to back off quickly.

“Nice cat, McKay.”

“Have someone jam you in a tiny box for hours and see how you feel!”

“Already have, thanks.” Sam's lifted eyebrow spoke of something that John wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear about, and he was saved from asking by the sudden commencement of the Gate dialing up.

_You'll never know if you don't try again_

“What the...?”

John groaned and sat down on the chair Amelia had rolled at him. “There was a fucking rain storm. Soaked everyone to the bone and made it a very lovely trek back to the jumper.” He peeled the socket fabric of his prosthetic down and off. “Permission to get back to you once we all de-mud?”

Sam didn't hesitate to say, “Granted. Jesus, get out of Stargate Ops before you drip on anything!”

Doc, as if on cue, proceeded to shake the water off his coat. Droplets landed on or near the consoles at a rapid clip and Rodney nearly choked on his tongue. Someone shoved the pair of crutches Keller kept for times like this into John's hands.

“Lana, please make sure he and Rodney get home without a problem,” she added with a glance at the hologram who smiled at her.

“I will.”

“Hey, can you get the tub filled?”

She pretended like she hadn't heard Rodney's request, and he huffed with a glare at John.

He smartly resisted reminding Rodney that he'd told the man multiple times about the desalinization tank warning and that he'd brought down Lana's wrath on himself; he was tempted to let her have her sulk, too, but they were both shivering from the cool air being blown on them from the vents and John's leg was not going to be happy after the three mile hike in a wet, muddy socket.

“Lana, could you please have the tub ready for me? I'd like to soak my leg before the muscles lock up.”

“Yes, John.”

Rodney grumbled and gripped John's prosthetic by the ankle, mud and water dripping onto the floor.

Lana glared at him in retaliation and called out the floor scrubbers—John thought of them as little roombas—which bashed repeatedly in Rodney's feet.

“Call her off, would you!”

“Nope.”

“I hate you.”

John just shook his head fondly, scratching Doc's head as they walked.


End file.
